Joe, Phil, Biff, and Chet all arrived at Pine Wood Lumber Company, at about ten o'clock. Joe, eager to meet Roger Martinis, began interviewing him. Collign had Con call ahead and tell Martinis that Joe was coming; once the situation was explained to him he agreed to meet Joe and his friends.

Roger Martinis was a big man, round at the middle, bald headed with a thick red beard and mustache, just like a lumberjack. He greeted the teens with handshakes and nods, as Joe introduced them all.

"After the officers called, I pulled all sales records for the last year, thinking maybe it might help," Roger said.

"Thank you Mr. Martinis…"Joe began.

"Please, call me Roger."

"Thank you Roger, it will help. Also, search for employees that might have just drifted in, in the last month or so, even ones that were part time or didn't last long," Joe said, in full detective mode.

"Yeah, come with me to the office."

The four boys were led through a workshop big enough to house several small jets. The workshop was filled with the sound of power tools, saws, sanders, and hammers, as well as the smell of fresh cut pinewood.

"My family's owned this business for eight generations," Roger shouted over the sounds. "We make everything out of pine, best wood out there. I've got twenty-four carpenters, eight salesmen, and a production staff of about six. I'd hate to think that my company had anything to do with a kidnapping in any way."

By now the group had reached a small office in the back of the workshop. It was of a minimalist décor, with three filing cabinets, a desk with a phone, computer, and filled to the brim with paper work, as well as a few chairs. Chet, Biff, and Phil each found a place to sit, while Joe remained standing.

Roger pulled a stack of vanilla folders from one of the piles on his desk and handed it to Joe. "I have to go and check on some outgoing shipments. Those are all sales from the last year. I'll send my daughter, Helen, in with the employee files. See, those are in the main office. These are down here because they're still being worked on, or they just haven't made it up to the main office."

"Thank you very much Roger," Joe said. Roger gave them a nod, and then left them alone.

"What do we do now?" Biff asked Joe.

"Pick a folder, any folder."

It was dark, unnaturally dark. It was silent, though not quite. There was still some noise, some sign of life. This was just silent, still. And it was stuffy; it smelt like wet soil and mildew. There wasn't a lot of room; he knew that with out even trying. He didn't even want to try. He hurt too much. His hand pounded in rhythm with his head, torso, and jaw, but some how seemed to stick out as the leading source of pain.

He wasn't afraid yet, probably because he wasn't yet fully awake. There was something close to his stomach. It pressed into a tender spot every time he moved. He used his good hand to try and push it away, but he couldn't. It was fixed in place, this small object that broke the silence as soon as he touched it, although it was no sign of life. It was to mechanical sounding, 'like the zoom on a camera,' he thought, and then his mind woke up.

"Make sure that the camera is working, I want every moment recorded." 'Every moment of what…' he thought as he tried to sit up, but he couldn't. He just hit his head on something solid. "Ah," he groaned and laid back down. The hit sent his head pounding out of rhythm with the rest of his aches, but seemed to release the memories that had been trapped just beyond his reach.

"Shit. Shit, no. Shit, God no. Please, God no…" He felt his body began to panic. Felt his breathing began to increase as the realization hit him. Frantically he took his good hand and banged on the wood that trapped him.

Nothing.

He yelled in frustration and fear.

Nothing.

He tried to kick, use his shoulder, but there was so little room to move.

Nothing.

His head began to swirl, as pain took control. He stopped banging on the cover, fearful sobs shaking his body.

Frank was buried alive.

It had been a half hour since they had begun their search. Helen had even joined in, starting with the employee files. Helen was, unlike her father, small, dark haired, and slim. Like her father, she was friendly, helpful, and wished that they were successful. Though now it became clear that the searchers were beginning to get frustrated.

"This is going nowhere," Biff said as he put down another useless file.

"Keep looking," Joe said.

"I need a break," Biff said. Joe looked up at him, annoyed. "Look, Joe I want to find Frank too, but my eyes are tearing up. I need a break." Joe shrugged and looked back down at the file in his hand.

"Twenty people in a row who have now ordered a bedroom set," Chet said.

"Yeah, you'd be surprised how many people want to sleep on Pine. Quit honestly, I like it better on the walls, I think it makes great art," Helen said absent mindedly, discarding another employ file. There was silence after that, for a while.

It was Phil who broke it. "Joe, I think I got something. I really think I got something, I mean it isn't Kolplay, not exactly, but it's close…"

"What are you babbling about Phil?" Joe said as he got up from his spot and walked over to where Phil was. He took the file that Phil was looking at and began to read it aloud, "J. Col Play, one four-by-six foot pine chest, to be ready by June 19…. Which was yesterday," Joe said.

"Did you say Play?" Helen asked; her brow creased in concentration.

"Yup."

"Play, he came in about a month a go. I remember him. I thought it was odd; the dimensions he gave us were for a coffin, but he wanted a chest. I mean, normally a chest is four by three or lower, at the most it's five. But he wanted six foot. It was odd."

"Looks like we have a lead," Joe said, just as Roger entered.

"So you've found something then?"

Joe turned to face him. "Looks like it. I mean, it could be nothing, but it's to big a coincidence. It's worth checking out," then Helen's words donned on Joe and his face paled slightly. "Helen, did you say the dimensions were six by four, and that those usually are for coffins?"

"Yup, them's my words."

Joe was silent, and his face paled even more, which did not go unnoticed by Biff.

"What is it Joe?"

"Frank's six one, it's a tight fit, but…." Joe said softly. "You make coffins here right? Pine wood is used to make coffins?"

"Yeah…" Helen said, catching on to what Joe was saying, "Oh my God…"

The others looked perplex at Joe and Helen, not yet putting things together, when there was a knock at the door. A burly looking short man came in and handed Roger a package. "This came 'bout ten minuets ago," he said.

Roger took the box, still confused, "Thanks Vic," he said to the disappearing man. Roger looked at the box for a second, then went into his desk door and pulled out a box cutter. Upon opening the box another package was discovered. "Joe, it's addressed to you."